A month ago...

The recent court sessions had become akin to a “marketplace.” On the eve of the Qing King's departure for the alliance meeting, who would remain to oversee the state? This became the focal point of factional strife.

Below the throne, the factions led by Marquis Lie and Marquis Rong were embroiled in fierce contention. The two chancellors exchanged sharp words with forced smiles. These old men were truly relentless. Ling Zhun observed silently, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully: traditionally, when the sovereign went on tour, the crown prince would assume regency. He glanced at his two sons standing at the forefront among the nobles, his pale lips curling slightly upward: it’s not yet time; these two are still too inexperienced.

Ling Zhun shifted his gaze. Amidst the contentious debate, only one person remained composed, holding his tablet calmly, his face serene, his eyes tranquil. Luo Yin, are you really aligned with the seventh prince? From his seat, the ruler scrutinized him intently. The silent Minister Luo gradually felt the weight of the gaze upon him and slowly raised his head.

Their eyes met—a silent exchange between ruler and minister.

After a long pause, the Qing King abruptly swept his sleeve and left, leaving the assembly in stunned silence.

“Minister Rong...” The Deputy Minister of Revenue hesitantly looked at the startled Rong Kexun.

“The King's expression was grim,” murmured another. “What should we do? What can be done?”

“Your Highness,” the Left Chancellor Dong Jianlin hurried after the swiftly departing Marquis Lie. “Third Prince.”

Ling Huaian turned with his hands clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes slowly scanning the anxious Chancellor Dong. His gaze settled firmly on Marquis Rong, Ling Cheran, who stood defiantly opposing him: Do you think I don't know that Yang Fengqi’s misdeeds were pinned on me by the seventh prince! Seventh Brother, this time, I will see this through with you!

Ling Cheran's lips curved into a slow smirk, his eyes gleaming with disdain: Oh? Then bring it on, Third Brother.

The clash between these two formidable figures drew considerable attention. No one noticed that as the King departed, a figure clad in red also vanished from the Qing Qiong Hall. In the Qing Kingdom, only six individuals could wear the crimson robe, representing the heads of the Tai Pavilion, Shang Pavilion, and Shu Pavilion—all first-rank officials.

“Lord Luo,” outside the Imperial Study, the Qing Palace eunuch Xian, holding a duster respectfully bowed to the visitor, “please come in.”

Luo Yin nodded slightly, took a deep breath, and limped into the inner hall with a measured gait. The prudent and astute Luo Yin understood that it was time to lend his support. He needed to maintain the current factional rivalry until the ninth prince returned triumphantly, then let the tides wash away the impurities.

“Minister Luo Yin pays respects...”

“Luo Qing,” before he could bow fully, the Qing King interjected, “how is the investigation into the treason case proceeding?”

Luo Yin lifted his head and replied truthfully, “Since Yang Fengqi's self-imposed death out of guilt, the trail has gone cold. Moreover, all his close associates have vanished.”

“Vanished?” Ling Zhun sneered, probably embarked on the path to the netherworld. “Do you believe the confession made by that criminal before his death is credible?” His piercing gaze carried a hint of cunning. Regardless of whose side you're on, now is the time to kick someone while they’re down.

“The third prince, though bold and radical, is utterly loyal to the king.”

These few words left the calculating Ling Zhun astonished: what a clever move by Luo Yin—speaking both sides of the coin. He clearly expressed his allegiance to Marquis Rong while subtly pointing out the third prince's flaws. Yet, he did not stray from the truth: although Huaian is obstinate, he doesn’t possess such intricate schemes.

“Oh?” A sharp glint appeared in Ling Zhun's eyes as he sneered, “Then who dared to frame my son?” It was common knowledge in court that if the third prince was framed, the culprit was none other than the seventh prince. Luo Yin, you wish to play the peacemaker, but I won’t let you have your way. Are you truly aligned with Cheran? If not... the Qing King's deep-set eyes reflected his racing thoughts: this could get interesting.

Luo Yin was no longer the youthful scholar of yore; like a piece of rough stone smoothed by trials, he spoke calmly, “The one who implicated the third prince was none other than the Ming King of Yong.”

Ling Zhun's pupils contracted sharply, his intense gaze locked onto Luo.

Minister Luo continued unruffled, “Let me ask, if our court falls into disarray, who stands to gain the most?”

Bang! Like a resounding bell, it struck Ling Zhun wide-eyed. Indeed, even if the seventh prince orchestrated it, the Ming King knew Ling Zhun wouldn’t fall for it. Should he press the issue and stir chaos in the court, leading to fierce factional disputes, the ultimate beneficiary would be... Ling Zhun chuckled coldly, has Chen Shao of the Ming Kingdom, who endured for fifteen years, finally lost patience? Planning to destabilize our court and seize power while I am preoccupied?

“Slam!” He slammed his hand on the table, determined to suppress them. Until he chose an heir, the standoff between the two kings of Yong must not waver!

Inside the study, the cloisonné enamel burner emitted warmth without smoke or dust, creating an almost suffocating silence.

The Qing King watched Luo Yin beneath him, inwardly pleased: what a fortune to have such talent under my command.

“Luo, my dear minister,” the voice sounded bland.

“Your servant is here.”

“You tell me, for the Jianzhou alliance, whom should I take with me?”

The echo lingered in the chamber, mingling with the warmth reddening Luo Yin's cheeks. Who to leave behind and whom to take, the royal intention was already set. He understood that the king's question was merely a test—to see if Luo Yin was involved in the succession struggle, the factional conflict, or had strayed from loyalty. As long as the throne wasn't vacated, he would never allow a minister to place himself second—even if that meant his own son sitting atop! Such is the heart of an emperor, greedy and suspicious.

Realizing this, Luo Yin took two steps back and deeply bowed, “I humbly believe that placing the least secure element closest ensures safety.”

Between wise men, no elaborate explanation is needed.

The Qing King understood and was satisfied.

“Luo Yin, receive the decree.”

The frail figure knelt straight down.

“During the alliance, I entrust you to manage the affairs of state alongside the two chancellors.”

What! Luo Yin raised his head stealthily, his sunken eyes glittering, trembling lips betraying a mix of honor and trepidation: what an honor, what a challenge. He trembled as he looked up at the man above: Your Majesty considers me one of his own, tasking me to monitor the restless factions.

“Your servant,” Minister Luo prostrated himself, lying flat at the Qing King's feet, “Luo Yin receives the decree.”

Ling Zhun did not permit him to rise but stood tall, facing northwest.

After a long moment.

“I heard the Yi King brought along his illustrious princess,” the Qing King's lips curled slightly, “What does he intend to do?”

Lying on the ground, Luo Yin responded softly, “The King of Yi once said: Only the empress position is worthy of my daughter.”

“Hmph,” the Qing King's dark eyes flickered coldly, “That depends on the accuracy of his judgment.”

On the third day of the ninth month, twenty-third year of Tianzhong, Qing Long King Ling Zhun departed the capital with his two sons. The royal procession stretched for miles, the atmosphere heavy with imperial grandeur.

Qing Lan has passed, Jianzhou rises...

It's truly challenging. “Drunk Cloud Wine.” Checking the markings on the jar, “Twenty jars.” Counting meticulously with a pen, yes, correct. Even though the Ministry of Rites officer holds the fourth rank, how did I end up as a warehouse manager? Scratching my head in resignation, I hadn’t expected my seemingly kind and rotund superior to be so stern.

“The Minister of Rites Wei Jiyan is aligned with my third brother, but you are mine~” Recalling last night’s expression on Yunzhi’s face, I shivered. Jianzhou is indeed cold.

Survival in court hinges on connections. Given the bifurcation of parties, a newcomer like me relying on Ning Hou is merely fodder for their suppression. Sighing lightly, I continued, undeterred.

“Dried beef, thirty jars...”

“Officer Feng!” A loud shout came from outside the account room. Clutching the ledger, I rushed out. “Vice Minister Jia.” Bowing slightly, I looked up to see Jia Zhengdao, a rank higher, frowning and grimacing—an unfortunate use of a handsome face.

“Go wash your hands!” He extended two fingers, disdainfully lifting the ledger from my grasp.

“But I haven't finished counting, Vice Minister Jia.” Yes, I enjoyed addressing him because the surname “Jia” was the only one comparable to “Feng” around us. Jia Zhengdao, False Righteous Path, what a comical name. Smiling inwardly.

“No need to count,” he tilted his chin, his irritated face revealing slight agitation. “Princess Tianjiao will visit the ninth prince to inquire about his health. Minister Wei orders you to serve as a ceremonial attendant.”

My lips twitched involuntarily, knowing nothing good would come of it. King Yi Yan Zhen’s story was legendary—he was originally a palace-born son of low status. During the previous Yi Kingdom's succession struggle, being inconspicuous saved him from turmoil. After the succeeding Yi Cheng Wang died within two years of ascending the throne, leaving behind an infant son, Yan Zhen, the sole remaining noble, unexpectedly ascended to power, securing a great advantage. Initially, he seemed benevolent, appointing his young nephew as the crown prince. But soon his true colors showed—he continuously held selection ceremonies for beauties, hoping to sire a biological heir. Whether due to divine disfavor or lingering resentment from his deceased brother, Yan Zhen, nearing sixty, fathered only one child, Yan Qi. Despite this, he refused to give up. Earlier this year, he even proposed changing the crown prince. The announcement caused a stir in Shenhun and shock throughout the Yi Kingdom. Amidst overwhelming opposition, he backed down, bestowing upon Yan Qi the title of Princess Tianjiao. True to her father’s expectations, this princess proved exceedingly haughty, earning a notorious reputation within ten days of arriving in Jianzhou.

Trailing dejectedly behind Jia Zhengdao, step by step. King Yi’s arrival was evidently aimed at forming matrimonial ties, and the Qing King didn’t hold back either, bringing two handsome, promising sons. This was truly a case of comparing three fine options, leaving the choice to the princess. Yet, Yan Qi managed to astonish everyone again.

At their first meeting, the princess pointed at Yunzhi, Xiuyuan, the third prince, the seventh prince, and my brother, giggling coyly: “Father, I want all of them!”

A single sentence left everyone stunned. In the male-dominated Shenhun, such a declaration of power was truly shocking. She was not just Tianjiao Princess; she was the princess.

And this butterfly flitted among the men—no need to mention my brother, who automatically faded into the background due to his status. Xiuyuan cleverly used Jianzhou's chill to freeze Yan Qi thoroughly. Next, it would be down to three contenders vying for one prize. Everyone understood: whoever married Tianjiao would gain King Yi’s full support. If being the younger brother of General Fubo made me a juicy piece of meat, then Yan Qi was a fat lamb waiting to be claimed. It all depended on how the three princes would weave their intricate webs of affection to trap this butterfly at the center.

“Official Feng!” A low growl snapped me out of my thoughts. Blinking, I saw Jia Zhengdao hunched over, gesturing with his hands, winking conspiratorially at me. “You see the princess? You haven’t bowed yet!”

Huh? Glancing casually, I caught sight of a fiery, beautiful face, and quickly lowered my head in a deep bow. “This humble servant pays respects to Princess Tianjiao.”

“Raise your head,” came her imperious command from above.

Sighing inwardly, I raised my head as instructed, keeping my gaze lowered.

“You’re… passable,” she said, circling me in her deerskin boots. “What? Do I really look that bad to you? Hmm?”

Her shrill tone pierced my ears, making them ring. I looked up directly, pretending to be mesmerized: “Princess, your beauty shines like the stars, radiant as peach and plum blossoms. This humble servant dares not offend Your Highness. Please forgive me.” After speaking, I reluctantly lowered my eyes again. Goosebumps rose on my skin—it seemed flattery was quite the technical skill.

“Hahaha!” She laughed contentedly. “Rise, rise.”

If only I didn’t have to rise—I looked up just in time to catch a dazzling wink that stung my eyes.

“Your Highness,” Jia Zhengdao interjected, pointing at me with a fawning smile toward Yan Qi, “this official Feng was originally a retainer under the Ninth Prince. Let him serve as your ceremonial attendant.” Bowing deeply, he added, “I have urgent matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.”

“Mm, mm.” The princess waved dismissively. Jia Zhengdao shot me a warning glare before vanishing like a gust of wind.

That fake righteous hypocrite dumped the trouble on me and fled. How infuriating—this was what passed for camaraderie among colleagues.

“Official Feng?” Yan Qi, draped in a purple sable cloak, leaned delicately against her maid, exuding charm and grace. “Hehe!” She flipped her eyes upward, raising her chin smugly. “What? Amazed?”

Such confidence. I murmured an assent.

“What are you still standing there for!” Her expression suddenly darkened, glaring at me with icy tones. “Lead the way! If I catch a cold, my father will have your hide!”

Truly the Tianjiao Princess—her words were as sharp as ever. I bowed deeply, feigning great trepidation, and led the way forward.

“Tell me,” she demanded sharply, “does Lord Ning have any favored concubines?”

Keeping my gaze fixed on the ground, I replied without looking up: “From what I know, the Ninth Prince has three attendants but no official wife.”

“Only three?” Her tone rose slightly, tinged with hesitation. “Could it be…?”

Three? Only three? It wasn’t surprising, considering King Yi’s harem boasted over a thousand beauties. Compared to him, Yunzhi was an anomaly.

“Your Highness,” an older maid whispered humbly near her ear. Whatever she said made Yan Qi’s face darken further, her brows knitting tighter.

Seeing the large tent ahead, I sighed in relief. “Your Highness, we’ve arrived.”

“Cough! Cough-cough!” As soon as we entered, heavy coughs echoed through the tent. Yunzhi was wrapped in a soft quilt, his long black hair cascading down as his body shook violently. “Cough! Cough! Cough!”

“Master,” Liu Yao took the handkerchief Yunzhi offered, speaking respectfully, “Princess Tianjiao has come to visit.”

“Cough… What?” He turned, his pale face framed by languid, seductive eyes, appearing even more captivating in his illness, overshadowing the princess entirely. “Won’t… cough… won’t you offer the princess a seat?”

“Yes.” Liu Yao placed a redwood stool beside the bed, letting the silk handkerchief drift casually to the floor, revealing traces of blood.

“Princess…” Another bout of violent coughing wracked his body. His disheveled black hair obscured his sickly features, stirring pity in those who heard it. Would his lungs burst from all this coughing? “Please… cough-cough… please sit.”

“No, no need,” Yan Qi stammered, staring at the bloody handkerchief on the floor. Her lips twitched unnaturally. “No need. I merely heard Lord Ning was ill and came to check.” Her gaze wavered as she stepped back. “Lord Ning is gravely ill. I won’t bother you further. Please take care of yourself.”

Yunzhi staggered to his feet, moving quickly forward. “Princess.” Suddenly, he lunged toward me, using me to steady himself, though he leaned half against my shoulder. “Cough… cough…” His body trembled against mine. “Princess, please go slowly.”

“Mm, mm.” Yan Qi retreated like a snake recoiling, glancing at me hurriedly. “Official Feng, there’s no need to escort me. I know the way.” With that, she tightened her cloak, brushed past her attendants, and fled swiftly, shedding all pretense of fragility.

The whirlwind swept away, leaving silence behind. After a moment, a leisurely chuckle sounded from my shoulder: “Heheh~” Warm breath tickled my neck. I shuddered and shoved the person off.

“You faker!” I shot him a glare.

A flicker of mockery danced in his eyes, his thin lips curling into a smile. “Didn’t you play along wonderfully? Hmm~” Liu Yao quietly dressed him in a brocade robe.

“Why pretend?” I asked irritably, watching him. “To let such a fat lamb slip away for free—it’s not like you.”

His pupils contracted abruptly, his face turning pale. He shrugged off Liu Yao’s assistance, leaving his robe open, chest partially exposed, exuding raw charisma as he advanced toward me. “Qingqing, do you not care at all?” His voice was soft, masking his anger.

Care? I raised my eyebrows. Care about what? Shrugging indifferently, I glanced around absently. Suddenly, I noticed a pair of agate cups on the round table, steam rising gently from tea brewing on the stove, the spout curling elegantly, exhaling wisps of white mist.

“Are you waiting for someone?” I gazed intently at him.

His steps faltered, surprise flashing across his face. Moments later, a slow smile crept onto his lips, spreading to his dark pupils. His narrow eyes shimmered mysteriously, and in the stillness, he burst into laughter: “Good, good.” His handsome eyes gleamed startlingly. “There’s only you who can guess my thoughts.” Leaning closer, light spilled forth. “Qingqing.”

I retreated cautiously. Truly enchanting eyes—they captivated the soul.

“Guess who I’m waiting for, hmm~” His voice trailed off enticingly, sparking endless speculation.

Memories of that morning’s words flashed through my mind. A beauty? Yunzhi was playing games with me again. Clutching the wine jug, I scanned the surroundings. In the grand tent sat mostly elders and the weak, except for…

The purple-gold goblet was raised, revealing a pair of brilliant phoenix eyes. As the wine steward, I served the four seated at the upper table, including Xiuyuan. I approached him silently, tilting the jug slightly. The rich liquor flowed smoothly into the goblet, emitting a sweet, intoxicating sound.

Amidst the clinking of glasses, status carved an unbridgeable chasm between us, separating our worlds.

Hide the drifting clouds of emotion, conceal the rippling waves of the heart.

In the slight chill of winter, ignite each other’s longing.

Row a small boat across the vast expanse of the Hong Canal, diving into the depths of your soul.

Come to ferry you, to ferry you.

Just as my sleeve brushed against something, I felt the warmth of his palm.

Channeling qi, I whispered softly: “Drink less.”

“Hmm.” His warm response.

How many cups had it been? Watching the purple-gold goblet lifted yet again, I sighed inwardly, sweetness welling up within me. Foam floated atop the green wine, pearls dripped from the press, fresh brew splashed into pitchers—intoxicated even before drinking. Our gazes met, entwining silently in the dimness.

“King Qing.” A sudden voice interrupted. Glancing sideways discreetly, I saw the dark-skinned King Yi staring pointedly, his old eyes gleaming strangely. King Ling Zhun, seated at the main table, paused his conversation with King Jing and turned to fix his gaze steadily. “King Yi?”

Yan Zhen pointed to the empty cup. I inclined my body slightly and moved forward to refill it.

“King Qing sure knows how to waste talent,” came a cryptic laugh from above.

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

“I’ve heard that this young man is the hero of Fan Cheng’s victory. For King Qing to make him a mere wine steward—isn’t that a waste?” His hand pressed firmly on the wine jug. I raised my head respectfully, meeting King Yi’s venomous stare. “Wine steward, isn’t that right?”

Right? My gaze swept over King Qing’s narrowed eyes, catching King Jing’s amused look. Silently cursing King Yi’s malicious intent, I wondered—dare I answer? Instead, I set the jug down gently, clasped my hands together, hiding my face behind wide sleeves, and spoke humbly: “This humble servant hails from the countryside. I once heard farmers say the difficulty in farming lies not in choosing seeds but in nurturing them. One must plow and weed patiently, neither rushing nor seeking quick gains. Rushing leads to over-fertilization and dead crops; seeking immediate benefits results in pulling shoots to hasten growth. Otherwise, autumn harvests and winter stores remain empty.” Raising my head, I saw King Qing’s softened gaze, met the astonished looks of the other two, and gave Xiuyuan a faint smile, continuing calmly, “Before entering service, the elders of my household imparted wisdom: A mighty tree grows from a tiny sprout; a towering platform rises from heaps of earth; a thousand-mile journey begins with a single step. Youth should not indulge in arrogance; modest talents should not disdain others. I keep these words close, never forgetting them day or night.”

Silence followed my words, broken only by the clinking of wine cups below. Lowering my eyes, cold sweat trickled down my spine. I was truly “fortunate”—even serving as a wine steward landed me in such peril. Alas, I sighed inwardly.

“I also heard…” That old scorpion King Yi spoke again. Heard what? My scalp tingled as I braced myself. “…that the wine steward isn’t from Qing Country.”

“Yes.” I kept my head bowed. “This humble servant’s home lies at the border where Jing, Liang, and Yi meet—a secluded valley.” Go ahead and investigate, I thought. I don’t believe you can penetrate Master’s Five Elements Qiankun Array.

“So why did you forsake proximity and seek a distant post in Qing Country?” His tone carried a hint of acidity.

A vivid image flashed through my mind: a cold laugh, slamming the table, pointing at the old man’s nose, and shouting, “I, Feng Yunqing, simply detest you!” Of course, that was impossible… Lowering my head, I sighed inwardly. This alliance meeting was all about forging connections and maintaining appearances of neighborly goodwill. There was no room for blunt honesty. My response had to avoid offending other nations while preserving my lord’s dignity—truly a delicate balancing act.

“This…” I feigned difficulty, leaning forward anxiously. “I fear my answer might invite ridicule.” I retreated slightly, almost brushing against Xiuyuan’s body, faintly feeling his warmth.

“Oh?” King Jing, Wu Ling, spoke up. His voice was unexpectedly frail, not what one would expect from a young man. “Then I am even more curious.” Another fat scorpion, eager to kick someone when they’re down.

Lifting my head, I responded with utmost sincerity: “I fear the cold.”

Thump, thump, thump… Only the sound of my heartbeat could be heard. After a long pause, a burst of laughter freed me from my unease. “Still just a child, after all,” King Qing, Ling Zhun, said lightly. His sunken cheeks quivered slightly, but his sharp black eyes betrayed no trace of amusement. He casually waved his hand, summoning an attendant. “Xian, fetch a hand warmer for Minister Feng.”

This statement was clearly meant not just for me, nor solely for those seated above. The clinking of wine cups gradually subsided as skeptical, envious, or probing gazes settled on me. Only then did I realize that favor and glory could sometimes feel like torment. Bowing deeply to express gratitude, the chill seeped from the ground into my heart. The hardships of bureaucratic life were upon me today—when would I reach the distant shore?

The wine steward’s rounds were fraught with peril, each step a test of nerves.

“It must be difficult for King Jing and Duke Ding as well,” King Yi remarked, glancing around with a benevolent smile. “To spend the winter hunt cooped up in a tent drinking with elders. Young men should be galloping on horseback, returning laden with game. Are you not tempted?”

“The winter hunt happens every year, but opportunities to forge bonds are rare,” Wu Ling replied, his tone deliberately ingratiating. “Regardless of status, based purely on seniority, I must respectfully address these two esteemed elders.” He nodded slightly toward King Yi and King Qing. “Respecting the elderly and honoring the virtuous—how can this be considered burdensome?”

Burdensome, indeed. For a king to bow as a junior was not an act of genuine respect but a concession to reality. After the upheaval caused by the empress dowager’s faction, King Jing was like a destitute heir who had squandered his family fortune. His honeyed words now were merely attempts to curry favor, hoping to scrape some crumbs from wealthy merchants. In truth, among the four seated figures, King Qing was the affluent landowner with both territory and wealth, King Yi was a landlord with land but little money, Xiuyuan was a nouveau riche lacking land, and only King Jing was a penniless pauper. It was truly humiliating for proud and portly Wu Ling to stoop so low.

“Lord Ping, we are of similar age,” King Jing raised his cup. “I am but a year older than you. Shall we address each other as brothers?”

Phoenix-like eyes turned cold, a fleeting glance sending a jolt through Wu Ling’s plump frame. Xiuyuan elegantly tilted his head, sipping the wine: “This lord is an only child.” Five words, mercilessly fired at the side, left the “pauper” tongue-tied, creating an awkward silence.

Just then, the tent flap was abruptly lifted, and a gust of cold wind swept away the convivial atmosphere.

“Report!” Li Xian, whom I had once knocked unconscious, rushed in and knelt secretly. “Lord Lie and Princess Tianjiao have gone missing.”

“Clang!” King Yi’s wine cup fell to the ground. “What do you mean!” His withered hands trembled as he glared furiously at Li Xian below. “What do you mean, ‘gone missing’!”

Li Xian leaned forward discreetly. “On the return journey, the princess spotted a white deer and impulsively chased after it. Lord Lie, Lord Rong, and General Han, seeing dusk approaching, rode after her.”

“And then? Ah!” King Yi’s expression turned furious. It was understandable; after all, she was his sole bloodline.

“And then,” the curtain fluttered as the seventh prince, clad in a crimson hunting robe, strode in. He bowed to those seated above. “My elder brother, Third Prince, General Han, and I split up to pursue them. However, the dense forest and fading light hindered our search. Deep within, I heard Third Prince shout for the princess. General Han and I followed the sound but found no trace of the princess or Third Prince.”

“And now?” King Qing’s face remained calm, betraying no anxiety.

“Now, General Han has led a search party into the mountains. I’m sure they will find them soon.” He looked at the visibly worried King Yi and reassured him gently. “Your Majesty need not worry. From the sounds I heard, Third Prince must have found the princess. They likely lost their way and are temporarily unable to return.”

“Mm, mm.” Yan Zhen nodded perfunctorily but couldn’t conceal his concern. “The sun sets in the west, the land grows cold, and Qi’er’s constitution is weak…” He muttered for a while before suddenly slamming the table. “Who was in charge of this winter hunt, allowing such a disaster to occur!”

My grip tightened, glaring fiercely. Idiot! Clearly, your daughter was too indulged, and now you’re lashing out!

“Reporting to Your Majesty.” A figure rose from below—it was Li Benzhong, who had returned empty-handed from Chengyuan. “According to my knowledge, the person in charge of this winter hunt was General Han Yuesha of Qing Country.” His tone dripped with resentment.

King Qing’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed those below, clearly displeased with the Yi Kingdom’s attempt to shift blame.

“Yes,” Li Xian added fuel to the fire. “If General Han hadn’t failed to stop the princess, this wouldn’t have happened.”

With accusations flying, the situation grew tense. Qing Country’s ministers watched gravely, the atmosphere taut.

Good, very good. I now deeply regret not breaking more of his teeth that day. Setting down the wine jug, I bowed to those seated above. “Your Majesty, I have a question for Young General Li.”

“Hmm?” King Qing’s dragon-like eyes flickered with overwhelming authority. “King Yi.” A palpable sense of pressure filled the air.

Yan Zhen locked eyes with him briefly before waving irritably. “Ask! Ask!”

Glaring down at Li Xian, I asked indifferently, “Were all the events you described witnessed firsthand by Young General Li?”

Li Xian straightened his back, sneering. “Of course.”

Sighs rippled through the tent. Confused glances darted my way. Yu Ning, who had entered with the seventh prince, frowned and shook his head at me subtly.

I smiled faintly. “Then, may I ask, what is Young General Li’s current position?”

“Sss—” Gasps erupted from the Yi Kingdom’s side.

“Hmm?” Leaning forward, I pressed on relentlessly. “Young General?”

“Uh…” He slumped back, gritting his teeth. “The princess’s personal guard…” His voice trailed off, barely audible.

Turning my gaze slightly, I bowed deeply to the seventh prince. “Forgive me if I didn’t hear clearly earlier, Your Highness. Please clarify—how many people went in search of the princess?”

Ling Cheran smiled knowingly and called out, “Only three: myself, Lord Lie, and General Han.”

“Hmph.” “So that’s how it is.” The seasoned officials King Qing brought were masters of shifting expressions. Immediately, dozens of disdainful gazes shot toward Li Xian and the Yi Kingdom’s lower-ranking officials.

“It seems someone neglected their duty,” Hu Cunyi, the renowned “Iron-Tongued Hu” of Qing Country, chimed in first. “While General Han searches the mountains in the dark, here we have false accusations being thrown around.”

“Morals have declined, morals have declined,” lamented Wei Jiyan, my direct superior and Minister of Rites. “Driven by profit, quick to shirk blame—is this the etiquette of the Yi Kingdom?” He shook his head sorrowfully, his distress palpable.

“Truly…”

“Sigh! Opportunists!”

Impressive, impressive. Look at that man trembling on the ground, while the Yi Kingdom’s officials covered their faces. Today, I finally understood what it meant to be drowned in scorn.

At the head of the tent, King Yi, Yan Zhen, turned ashen. Grabbing a food tray, he hurled it to the ground. “Disobeying my orders, abandoning their master mid-journey, and now spreading slander against Qing Country’s general! Li Xian, do you know your crime?” His voice trembled, his face flushed red.

“Your servant…” The towering figure trembled, collapsing to the ground. “Your servant…”

“Guards! Drag him out and execute him!” Enraged and humiliated, King Yi issued the execution order.

The entire tent gasped. The clamor died instantly, leaving an eerie silence.

The candlelight flickered, distorting the shadows.

“Your Majesty!” Li Benzhong rushed forward, prostrating himself. “Please spare my nephew’s life, Your Majesty, in consideration of my family’s loyalty.”

King Yi’s expression wavered slightly, hinting at hesitation. No one at the upper seats spoke. King Qing calmly sipped his wine, while Xiuyuan closed his eyes impassively. The “pauper” looked conflicted, seemingly about to speak when another cry rang out: “Report!”

Han Rang knelt on one knee, announcing loudly, “General Han has ventured deep alone and discovered the princess’s mount.”

All heads turned, hope flickering in their eyes.

“Upon inspection, the saddle was deliberately cut beforehand. Third Prince and the princess remain missing.”

“Clang!” King Yi exploded in rage, hurling plates and cups like rain onto the uncle-nephew pair below. “Spare him? Spare him! Wasn’t it your responsibility, Li Xian, to oversee the equipment? Plotting regicide, how dare you!” He was losing control. “Execute him! Drag him out and behead him!”

“Your Majesty, spare me! Spare me!” Li Xian was dragged out of the tent, his cries echoing pitifully.

“Your Majesty…” Li Benzhong knelt below, his face lowered, his expression unreadable. His fists slowly clenched, veins bulging. “Your… Majesty.”

Looking up, I saw King Qing watching everything with detached interest. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, and the corner of his lips curled slightly upward. That familiar smile—it reminded me so much of Yunzhi…

The banquet ended on a sour note, leaving everyone uneasy. Within a single day, emotions swung like the seasons, alternating between warmth and cold. Attending the court was like walking alongside a tiger, every step fraught with danger. Returning to my quarters, I collapsed against the table, exhaling deeply.

“Yunqing.”

Warmth enveloped me from behind as I lazily leaned into his embrace. “Xiuyuan, I’m tired.” The faint scent of medicine reached my nose as I exposed my most vulnerable side.

The arms around my waist tightened, a soft whisper brushing against my ear: “Do you want to leave?”

“No.” I turned around and pulled him into a tight embrace, nuzzling against him. “I can't leave.”

“I'll always be by your side.” A gentle kiss landed on my forehead, lingering in my heart, like the light touch of a dragonfly sending ripples through a still pond.

“This... was all part of a conspiracy, wasn’t it?” Thinking back on everything that had transpired today, a deep fear welled up within me.

“Perhaps.” His slender fingers threaded through my hair. “I’ve already sent the Qinglong Riders to search the mountains. We’ll have news soon.”

“Mm.” I murmured softly, my voice trembling. “The court… it’s terrifying.”

“You did well.” He patted my back, rocking me gently in his arms. “You were remarkable.”

“Xiuyuan.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“Eh?” I looked up in surprise. “What are you afraid of?”

In the dimness, all I could see were his dark, luminous phoenix eyes slowly drawing closer, his warm breath growing heavier with each passing moment. A soft “rain” of kisses fell upon my lips.

“I’m afraid...”

His words,

Caught on the tip of his tongue,

Sank into the depths of my heart.

Mm,

I understood,

And responded with the flick of my own tongue.